


Bitter To The Taste

by missema



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Attraction, Canon-Typical Violence, College of Winterhold - Freeform, College of Winterhold Questline, F/F, F/M, Forsworn, Imperials, Mages, Markarth, Open Marriage, Opposites Attract, Polyamorous Marriage, Polyamory, Skyrim Kink Meme, Skyrim Main Quest, Slow Burn, Stormcloaks, Thieves Guild, Winterhold
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-07-22 09:26:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7429497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missema/pseuds/missema
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Winterhold was once a great place, an important city in Skyrim before the Great Collapse. Now it's a backwater, stewarded by Jarl Korir, who dreams of honor and glory. Dragonborn Zee comes to Winterhold seeking a refuge at the college, hoping to become a stronger mage to aid in her battles for the Legion (among others). But as she becomes part of the town and bumps heads with Jarl Korir, an attraction develops between the two that neither can explain. They can't avoid it either, even if it is destined to end badly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to Winterhold

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted on the skyrim kmeme: So when it comes to the "Who's Ulfric Stormcloak's Biggest Fan" contest, Jarl Korir of Winterhold is probably only beaten by Ulfric himself. He hates the Empire and really really has it in for the College. 
> 
> Enter the Dragonborn, who fully intends to join the College. Obviously they get off on the wrong foot, and that of course leads to a long rivalry filled with lots of glorious UST.
> 
> This is still very much a WIP over on the meme. Updates are smaller there but here are put into whole chapters for easier readability. In this story, Korir and Thaena have an open poly marriage that is well known among the citizens of Winterhold and the other jarls of Skyrim.

Divines, he hated endless winter that engulfed his home. Korir shivered on his throne, trying to coax more heat from the furs he wore, though it was a hopeless cause. This day had grown colder as it went on, the bitter wind whipping harder than usual at the Longhouse, giving the air a frigid edge. The only consolation was that it would soon be over, and he could go on over to the Frozen Hearth for a mug of mead to warm him from the inside out.

He hadn't seen Thaena, his wife, or his son for at least the last hour, but Korir had only assumed that they'd made their way over to the inn already. It was one of the warmest places in Winterhold because everyone congregated there, even if there was a filthy wizard in residence. Dagur let anyone take a room, regardless of whether or not they actually should be allowed to stay. Winterhold didn't need strangers, not in these times. More often than not, strangers were mages come to that Gods-forsaken college to cause more of the special kind of chaos the college excelled at -- the magical, dangerous kind. The type that had doomed Winterhold, and brought it to its current state of ruin.

There was little else to do in Winterhold outside of the college, save for spend time at the inn and then huddle back into a warm corner of his own longhouse. He couldn't fault Thaena for getting out for a few hours each day. He thought idly about stretching his own legs, walking around some in the town, but decided against it. No one else but his guards would be out, and there was only the one road in and out of town. It would take him all of five minutes and freeze him in the process. Pointless.

His mind turned back to the endless logistical problems that plagued him. Winterhold couldn't survive on its own, and Korir felt the pressure of providing bearing down on him. There was a shipment due in from Windhelm soon, but the Stormcloaks were getting slower in their deliveries. His people might starve if Ulfric's shipments were too slow, and Korir stewed as he tried to find a way to get more to his people. Prosperity and Winterhold were not able to walk hand in hand together these days as they had in the past. He blamed the mages and their damn college for sinking the bulk of his city and its arable land into the Sea of Ghosts.

The door opened and he felt the blast of freezing air nipping first at his ankles and then snaking up his body with vicious, icy tendrils. He looked up, a guard rushing towards him. The sheer urgency in the man made Korir come to attention, poised on the edge of his throne. 

"Dragon," the man panted. "Dragon attack."

Korir was already on his feet, rushing towards the open door. There had been news of dragon attacks further south, but nothing here. There wasn't much of Winterhold left, but he was damned if a dragon was going to take what little there was. The guard was on his heels, ready to go back out to the fight. 

Korir spared a moment to pray to Stendarr that his wife and son were safely in the inn as he stepped outside. Black wings were spread as the dragon hovered just over the ground, about to roast the assembled guards and fighters as they tried to take the beast down. Korir ran headlong straight into the middle of the fray with an almighty roar. No dragon would take Winterhold today.

 

Dragons had been showing up wherever she went in Skyrim, and Zee couldn't help but think that they were following her. It was just a theory, and one she had no time to think about as she tried to stop the dragon currently attacking her in Winterhold. She'd come for the college, of course, but she hadn't even gotten a chance to look in the direction of it before the sound of roaring and flapping wings brought a dragon down upon her.

She had a greatsword and no desire to run. She knew what she had to do. Zee opened her mouth to shout back, to let the Thu'um take over her voice. It was disconcerting, but since she'd been to see the Greybeards, she was slowly learning to let the dragon soul have a place in her life. At least it proved useful in times such as these.

The dragon hadn't been expecting her shout, and where it spat fire, she threw ice. The guards around her took advantage of the opportunity, a storm of arrows raining down on the dragon, further debilitating it. Figures rushed at it from all sides, now that was on the ground they had a chance to take their hits. 

Too soon it was up and flying again, but she saw the thing listing to one side. It was damaged, and though she could not use her Voice again so soon, they had the dragon on the defensive. Taking a moment to breathe once the dragon was airborne again, she looked around. No guards dead, which was a good thing, and next to her with a sword held slack in his hand was the jarl.

There was no mistaking him with the circlet, the finery and the mane of flowing hair with tiny, intricate braids. She had meant to go and introduce herself, but the dragon had attacked before she could even truly step foot into Winterhold. Now wasn't the time, though she was pleasantly surprised the jarl had joined him. Balgruuf, though she was grateful to him, hadn't risked himself so.

The dragon landed again, and once more Zee called on her Thu'um. She sent the dragon staggering backwards, and with that opening she and the group of fighters were able to kill it. She felt the dragon die, the withering of the flesh that had once held the powerful soul. Though she prepared herself, the transfer of the soul felt as though it were pressing in on her too hard, making it impossible to breathe or move for a few seconds as it joined with her. Those moments always felt like drowning -- she'd been convinced she was going to die the first time it happened.

The Jarl pivoted on his heel and looked at her, just turned to stare. He said nothing as she gathered up the remains, though the guards began to chatter. They knew what she was now, if not who. Might as well go on and let them see her, put a face to the name 'Dragonborn'. They'd figure it out soon enough anyway. Taking off her helm to let some of the heat out, she shook her mane of bobbed black hair from her face. Everyone looked and she pretended not to notice as she put the heavy dragon bones in her sack.

"You'd better come inside, Redguard," the jarl said. He sounded so weary, too tired for such a young face. Without waiting for her to answer, he left and walked back into the longhouse not that far away. Zee sighed heavily, looking back at the crowd once more before following.

#

Snow followed them into the longhouse, swirling around Zee's feet as she made the close the door behind her. It wasn't much warmer inside, to tell the truth, despite the fires that burned. She wondered if she could do a little magic to get them going, a little heat to make them burn hotter, but she knew how Nords were about magic. Maybe there were fire salts in her pack. Ever since she'd learned that little trick from the smith Balimund, she'd kept some with her to make her fires burn hotter while camping.

He walked back slowly, as if he dreaded the task of sitting back on his throne. Handing off his sword to be cleaned, the jarl stood and stared at her once more, saying nothing before he sat down. Zee was starting to get unsettled by him, and the long, piercing looks he gave her. She decided to try for politeness, though she had a feeling that her efforts would be lost on this jarl.

"My Jarl," Zee said, and knelt in front of Korir as he settled himself back on his throne. He bade her rise without any real enthusiasm.

He eyed her critically, and she could almost hear the assessment in his thoughts. She wondered if it had more to do with being the Dragonborn or a stranger. Redguards weren't found in large supply in the snowy northern reaches of Skyrim. Zee was about to decide that perhaps the jarl just wasn't a talkative person when he finally spoke.

"I suspect you're here for the college, Dragonborn."

"It was the reason why I came to Winterhold."

"Then you shall share in the blood on their hands. The people of Winterhold's blood," Korir muttered, shaking his head.

"What do you mean?" Zee asked, her voice getting lower as she tried to tamp down the anger pooling inside of her. "I just saved Winterhold."

"You're years too late to save Winterhold," he said, sighing. His melancholy was apparent, sitting on his shoulders like a mantle. Whatever his problems, she'd just stopped a dragon attack. Any other jarl would be offering to make her a Thane right about now.

"I don't understand," Zee said finally, frowning down at jarl as he sat on his throne.

"The college is the root of all of our problems here. It was their fault most of the city sunk into the seas. Now it's the only reason we ever get travelers here. Winterhold was once capital of Skyrim, and now look," he said, gesturing with a hand at the emptiness around him.

Windhelm had once housed kings. Old Hroldan had a haunted bedroom that Tiber Septim stayed in. Whiterun had Dragonsreach and the Skyforge. Every town in Skyrim had a story, some past claim to fame, and though she didn't doubt that Winterhold had once been a power, Zee was more concerned with the here and now. This odd, miserable jarl was of no real concern to her unless he meant to stop her from getting to the college.

"May I go to the college?" she asked, but only received a shrug in reply.

"If that is your wish, I cannot stop you." He wasn't even looking at her as he spoke, and she thought it a dismissal, but then he leaned forward, his face hard. "Those mages were everything that was wrong in my city until you and a dragon showed up. You should leave, Dragonborn. Nothing but foul deeds behind those walls up there and we need no more trouble," he said.

That apparently, was her dismissal. The jarl fixed her with a mighty glare and said no more. Zee offered only a slight bow before backing away. Odd as he was, she felt a bit of compassion for him. Living in Winterhold couldn't be easy, and ruling it even less so. Her empathy didn't mean she forgave his rudeness however, and when she walked away there was a little haughtiness in her step. She didn't have to turn back to see him watching her as she left.

#

Korir almost followed her out of the door, just to see if she would heed his words. She wouldn't, he knew, but that was because mages never could be trusted to do what they were told. Mages, bah! Divines save them all from the meddling of mages! Korir would rather face dragons than deal with all the damned mages coming through his town. At least a dragon he could kill, with the right help. Magic was a foe that couldn't be slain.

As much as he wanted her to leave his town to its relative peace and quiet, it would be a shame when she did. Not many had that kind of skill in slaying dragons, and he'd fought alongside her. This woman -- he forgot to ask her name and she didn't offer it -- was not just Dragonborn, but a formidable fighter. The door slammed open once again, caught on a gust of frigid wind that blew a person inside.

"Korir, is it true?" Thaena asked, rushing towards him. "Was that really a dragon attacking?" Her lips were blue, but her eyes shown bright with interest. He couldn't blame her -- this was likely the most excitement Winterhold would see unless the Imperials started a battle here. He wasn't holding out hope for the battle.

"Aye," Korir said. "I helped to bring it down."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "You fought it, Korir?"

"Don't doubt me, woman," he grumbled, getting a smile from his wife in return.

"The guards told me about the stranger. They say she's Dragonborn." Thaena's words came out all in a rush, as if the rumors were crowding her tongue and needed to be set free. He knew she'd been at the inn, because if she'd been in Birna's store, she wouldn't have heard any rumors so quickly. Birna didn't gossip like the guards did.

"That's true, she is. I saw her take the dragon soul with my own eyes, Thaena. It was magnificent. She's the real thing," Korir said, the memory of the fight bringing the smallest of smiles to his lips.

"Where is she now?"

"Gone. Probably up to that college."

"She's a mage then? Is that how she fought it, with magic?" Thaena asked, her hands on her hips.

"Calm yourself. She fought with a greatsword. What does it matter, Thaena? She's not the champion Winterhold needs," Korir said, trying to convince himself more than his wife.

"Did you even ask her to find the helm? If she can fight a dragon, she might be our chance to reclaim some glory." Thaena had her hands on her hips now, glaring down at her husband. They had discussed this many times, finding the lost helm of Winterhold, restoring some of the lost history to the city to remind the people of their honor.

Korir harrumphed but didn't deny that Thaena was right. He'd been in shock after the fight, plain and simple. There had been years of ceaseless, awful quiet before this year, and now Ulfric taking his rightful place, dragons returning and a Dragonborn in his city. It had overwhelmed him and he squandered his opportunity. Right in front of him had been a real fighter, one that could give him back a small piece of Winterhold, bring some of its history back. And he, without the foresight the Divines gave a rock, had all but told her to leave. His own folly deepened the blackness of his mood, already so advanced even his dragon fight had done little to pull him from it.

Thaena was still giving him that pointed look of hers, hands on her hips. 

"I'll ask next time she comes in," Korir promised.

"You sure she's coming back?" Thaena asked. 

Korir didn't answer, he wasn't sure, but he had a feeling she would.


	2. Zee of Wayrest

All she could feel around her was the bracing cold, and that suited Zee just fine. The College of Winterhold was warm enough, but not even all the heat spells in Tamriel could truly keep the icy fingers of the frigid wind from getting through the stone walls. She could at least, stop it from snowing, but Zee hesitated, thinking of Winterhold's strange jarl. That he disliked mages was clear, but she hadn't been able to figure out if he disliked her for being one or was just upset that he'd had to fight a dragon. Perhaps she'd save her clear skies shout for another time, when she was sure she wouldn't be arrested for using it.

She followed Mirabelle Ervine through the small college dutifully, not really seeing her surroundings. This was an isolated place, a world unto itself, despite its far-flung infamy. Really, Winterhold had been her last resort for places to go, but she'd needed to flee Riften. Just thinking about the place set her teeth on edge. How had she been so stupid? There was no life for her there, at least not the one she'd hoped that she might have.

Her mood hadn't been great to begin with, but introduction to Winterhold and unwanted thoughts of Riften spiraled her into gloom. At some point in her mind, Zee had settled on this to be her brand new start, and it had begun more inauspiciously than she would have liked. She shivered in the fur-lined robe that Mirabelle had given her, noting that the inside was clean though clearly worn, and wondered how many apprentices had donned the robe before her. It didn't matter. 

She was going to be a spell-sword like her ancestors, like the greatest fighters of the Ash'abah. They alone among those of the Alik'r had the mettle to fight the dead, to keep the necromancers from further dishonoring the dead by making them into the mindless Ra-netu. Her mother's people had fought them for centuries, using whatever means was necessary. Descended from a fallen prince, they protected Hammerfell as no others would dare. She could do no less for these dragons in this frozen tundra. 

"Do you have any experience with magic?" Mirabelle asked her, turning back to give Zee an appraising look. 

"Yes, some. My father is a mage in service to the Crown of Wayrest," Zee said. Mirabelle raised an eyebrow.

"A court mage?"

"No, a battle-mage," Zee told her. Her parents had been part of the force that drove out the corsairs that took her city when she was a child. Her father threw flame, and her mother wielded a scimitar to save their city. Zee loved telling their stories.

Her father was Breton, her mother Redguard, the two of them warriors that courted by sparring. She'd lived her life between the politicking nobles of Wayrest and the harsh sands of the Alik'r. Zee loved both places, but she'd left home with the lofty goal of exploring the world lighting her eyes and guiding her steps. She was the youngest of four and eager to make her own mark in the world.

Making a mark lead to so many missteps, Zee had lost count. A tear threatened to slide from one eye, but she blinked it back. There was no more rain in this cloud, not when she could fix her mind to studying. Magic may come easy to her, but she'd never trained formally in it. She'd just learned what she could at her father's knee and from her elder siblings. Her oldest sister, Nimida Marie, she was the court-mage who had all the benefits of proper study that Zee had never been interested in.

"Good, then you may yet survive," Mirabelle said archly. 

"I'll do my best," Zee replied, earnest as all new students tended to be. She hoped that it would be enough.

#  
Korir almost wondered what life was like up at that college. Did they practice spells, normal things like lighting fires and healing, or was it all raising the dead and summoning daedra? Talos preserve him, he wasn't sure he wanted to know. He'd been up there before, grudgingly. It was technically, under his jurisdiction, but he hadn't gone willingly to the college that loomed malevolently over his Hold, only because of necessity. He hadn't been able to bring himself to go into the halls. Savos Aren usually came down to meet him on the rare occasions they had business. Most days, he preferred not to remember it existed, though with the diminished state of his town, that was hard to do.

Days after he'd met the Dragonborn woman, he found himself thinking, speculating. Their tense conversation played over and over in his head, and he wished he could change it. If he could, he'd make her leave with a better impression of him, at the very least. Neither Korir nor anyone in the guard had seen hide nor hair of her since she'd slain the dragon. Part of him was disappointed at that news, thinking that maybe she had heeded his advice and left, but he was fairly certain that wasn't the case. The stubborn stiffness in her back as she pranced out of his longhouse made him think that she'd elected to remain, to go to that awful college.

"Korir, you're a like a ship lost in the fog," Thaena said, snapping him out of his roving thoughts. "Did you hear me?" she asked.

"Aye," Korir lied.

"You didn't," Thaena accused, but then sighed in resignation. "I said I'm going to see Birna."

"You've made up then?" he asked. He tried to keep with the relationship of his wife and her girlfriend, but they often fell out. Birna could be tiresome, at least in his experience.

Thaena sniffed imperiously, but Korir saw through it. She'd been missing Birna, but they'd had some great fight about a month ago and things hadn't been right between them since. It wasn't his business, strictly speaking, but he tried to comfort Thaena when she'd been upset. "I suppose you could say that."

"Tell her I said hello. I'll fetch Assur for his lessons later, so you needn't worry," Korir said. Their son would be at the inn, and he could ask around there if anyone had seen the dragonborn. Maybe he could get a chance to ask her to retrieve the helm of Winterhold, if she wanted his favor.

People always did, and that was one of the perks of being the jarl. It was a duty, of course, but Korir had been raised to it. His father had been a fierce warrior and a man of history. Korir tried to live up to him, to make a plan to bring Winterhold back to its former glory, but he was no strategist or cunning politician. There was no Imperial gold lining his pockets, or offer of Legionnaires to help rebuild his town. Winterhold was alone, and he was the sole defender. He fought bears and horkers, sent letters to Ulfric pleading for more food and lumber, and prayed to Talos to guide him. That's all he could do.

Thaena was on her way out but turned back to him. She stood there for a moment, wavering, but then spoke up. "Her name is Zee, or so they've said in the inn."

"What?" Korir asked, looking down the length of the longhouse at her.

"The dragonborn. I thought you might like to know her name if she comes back. So you can ask for the helm properly."

"Zee," he muttered to himself, but then spoke so his voice would carry to his wife, "thank you, Thaena."

She nodded, and with a burst of cold disappeared outside.

#

Classes didn't start immediately, though she would have preferred if they did. Her fellow students were excited, talking and joking with each other, bragging about the magic that they knew -- but Zee only wished there was less time for her to just sit around. Talking didn't really interest her, so she was withdrawn and quiet in the face of Brelyna, Onmund and J'zargo's enthusiasm. Silently, she felt Mirabelle Ervine's appraisal of her as she sought out solitude in the library, the comfort of books instead of people. She wasn't sure what impression she was making, save for one of student, but Mirabelle watched her anyway. For whatever she presented, Mirabelle was the real power at the college.

Ancano, the Thalmor at the college, worried Zee. He worried her more than much of what she'd seen there, even though the college was hardly in the best state. Missing students, an underground enchanting service and a fence that was known to her, the college of Winterhold was more than just a bastion of magical study. The Thalmor must have seen that too, since Ancano had been here before she arrived. He was keeping almost as close of a watch on her as Mirabelle did. This place was full of the unexpected, especially a Thalmor that seemed preoccupied with intimidating her.

Perhaps it was the dragonborn thing, which worried her as well. The Thalmor were already interested in her, and Zee took pains to stay under their radar. On her way to Winterhold, she'd stopped in Whiterun to train with Jarl Balgruuf's guard. The Thalmor knew she could use a bow, but they wouldn't expect her to use a greatsword. It took weeks of work to even learn the basics, but the hard labor had caught the eye of the Companions. It felt funny to think that noble warriors wanted her to join. She hadn't yet taken them up on their offer. She'd done well enough with it against the dragon when she'd come to Winterhold.

"Your father is a Breton, you said?" Brelyna asked, as she sat down uninvited on Zee's bed. She was carrying a ripe apple, red and huge. Zee wondered where she'd managed to get it, and when Brelyna saw her stare she smiled and threw it to her, taking another from under her robe. Zee caught it, feeling where it was warm from Brelyna's grip.

"I can pay you back," Zee said, starting to stand.

"No, it's no problem," Brelyna said, giving her a smile. It was a small, probing smile to test the waters, but Zee only nodded in return.

Zee knew a bribe when faced with one, but she took a large bite from the apple anyway, closing her eyes to savor the sweet taste. A bead of juice dripped from her bite mark onto her hand, and she flicked the drop into her mouth with a quick swipe from her tongue, enjoying even that small bit of juice. The last apple she'd had was boiled down into apple cabbage stew, days old by the time she'd gotten to it.

"Yes, father is Breton. My family lives in Wayrest," Zee confirmed, though she'd just told Onmund the same the night before. No doubt that's where Brelyna got it from.

"Magic runs deep in my family as well," she admitted. "I had to get away, to make my own mark."

"Same," Zee said. Brelyna's smile widened out of the wheedling, tentative grin she'd been giving her.

"I knew it. There's gotta be something more for us, more than just shadows to stand in," Brelyna began, talking in depth about the magical heritage of her own family. She was Dumner, and it was a large family, giving Brelyna a lot to complain about. Zee let her mind drift slightly as the enthusiastic woman spoke.

More than just shadows to stand in -- Brelyna was closer to the mark than Zee would like her to be. But there were no more questions posed about her background as they talked, and Zee felt herself loosen up a little. She liked Brelyna, though she was wary of everyone these days. It wouldn't hurt her to make an ally, or at least someone she could ask about helping with spellwork.

"I just can't wait for this afternoon, can you?" she asked, but didn't wait for an answer. "Classes, finally. I hope we learn something good."

"Me too," Zee said, not sure what 'something good' might even be when it came to learning spells.

#

When she did get to finally start her classwork, it began with a lesson and then another break. It was clear that it was a disappointment to Brelyna and the others, but Zee was glad to work on something as simple as wards. Being good at warding could be the difference between being alive and turning into a pile of ash on the ground. Better to get good at basic skills instead of wading into the advanced before they were ready. She knew the value of honing her skills, basics and all. It had saved her life more than once before.

But apparently she was the only one that felt that way. The eagerness of the others started to grate on Zee, and she found herself wanting to escape before too long. When going back to her bed only made the others follow her there, she went to the library. Onmund came too, and before long was talking to her in whispers about their upcoming trip to Saarthal. He objected to it, since it was a place of Nord dead. After listening to his whispered arguments for a half hour, she could take no more.

Life at the college was isolated enough, but with Winterhold being so small, there was almost nothing to do but stay within the confines of the walls. That may have been fine for the other students, but she needed to get away from them at the moment. She wound up at the inn, which aside from the general store, was really the only place to go, and the store was closed when she'd gotten down there.

It was dinner time, and the inn warm and full of the smell of long-cooked stew with faint traces of fresh baked bread. Most of the faces she'd seen around the city on her way up to the college were there. In the corner two children played together, and a elf that was clearly a wizard sat reading a book. Others drank either alone or in small groups at the tables. She didn't know where to sit.

"I didn't think I'd see you again, Dragonborn," a voice said, and Zee whipped around.

She was face to face with the jarl, who had been seated with his back to the door. She hadn't noticed him. He was giving her a wary gaze, as if he couldn't decide whether he was the hunter or the prey. Zee sized him up, looking him over for a second time, this time without the shadow of battle casting an edge to their meeting. He was an attractive man with russet colored hair, light eyes, a square jaw and a powerful body. Right now his hawkish attention was trained on her, jaw tight with unreleased tension. She felt his disapproval as they looked at each other, the hardness of his eyes giving him away as his gaze swept over her robes.

"It's good to see you too, my Jarl," Zee said, offering him a little bow. "I came for dinner, or is that not allowed?"

Korir cocked his head to one side, but didn't take the bait. "Enjoy your meal. If you're interested in performing a great service for Winterhold, come see me tomorrow."

She wasn't sure she liked the sound of that, but before she could ask him any question, the jarl was gathering up his son and leaving. Zee watched them go, biting her lower lip unconsciously as she did. The innkeeper came up next to her, one hand on her hip and a broom in the other. 

"Korir is like that, it isn't just you," she admitted to Zee. "Can I get you some dinner?" she asked, giving Zee a small nod as if to encourage her to spend her coin.

Zee ate her food alone, not thinking at all about the college or what they might find in Saarthal, but what the jarl might ask of her tomorrow. She'd go before she left for Saarthal, early in the day. No one else spoke to her as she finished her food and trudged back up to the college in the blistering cold.

#

He expected to wait longer for her to show up. Korir had just taken his throne when the Dragonborn swept into his longhouse, her face and eyes bright with the cold. He fought the urge to sit up straighter as she drew closer, choosing to ignore his niggling thoughts on why the urge surfaced in the first place. She came and stood, bending knee to show him the proper respect and then stood at his bidding. Korir found that he was holding his breath until she stood and met his gaze.

"Jarl Korir, you requested my service," she said.

"Dragonborn," he started, but she made a sour face as she interrupted him.

"Respectfully, I prefer to be called by name. I am Zee of Wayrest."

"You're not from Hammerfell?" he asked, suddenly curious. His question drew a scornful laugh from her.

"No, my jarl, I'm not." Despite the laughter, she seemed suddenly tense, and he wondered what might make her so defensive. She volunteered no more information about herself, and that too piqued his interest. "Do you still have a task for me?" she asked.

"Zee of Wayrest, do you know much the history of Winterhold?" he asked, but didn't pause for her to answer. "Jarl Hanse was nearly the High King, back when our hold was wealthy and prosperous. We've lost much of our history, of our power. But we're still proud of our history. I've heard rumors of Hanse's helm, the helm of Winterhold. Having it would be a boon to both me and the entire hold. I'd be in your debt."

He wasn't sure why he said the last part, but Korir wanted to impress upon her how much it would mean to him if she did this. She gave him a hard look, then turned her head to consider. Outwardly, Korir showed no anxiety, but inside he worried. If she did not do this, it would be back to mercenaries, and they'd proven so unreliable. He'd had to kill the last bunch when they tried to ransom the location of the helm to him, which was a shame because their leader had been his lover for a short while. He wasn't even sure the location was correct, but that would be her job to figure out.

She turned back to him, her dark eyes filled with delight that she didn't try to smother. "Where exactly, have you heard this helm resides?" she asked.

Korir broke into a true smile, the effect of it drawing out an answering grin from Zee. She had the heart of a true adventurer, a fearlessness that extended beyond fighting dragons. Thaena had been right about her. 

"You're going to find it, I can feel it. Call it the intuition of a true Nord," he said, leaning forward. "It's supposed to be in Yngol Barrow," he told her, then gave her the rough location. He watched her absorb the information, nodding as he gave her landmarkers to look for.

"All right, Jarl Korir. I will do my utmost. Expect me back in a few weeks at most," Zee said.

"I have faith, Dragonborn. Lady Zee," he amended. 

She laughed again, this time an altogether sweeter sound, surprisingly delicate. "I am no great lady, my jarl."

And with that statement, she gave him a small bow and made her way from the longhouse. He watched her walk out, watching her back with unseeing eyes. The helm of Winterhold would be his again, a favor from the Dragonborn. The other jarls would see that Winterhold was not just a half-dead relic, but a place of real power. If she found it, he would send word to Ulfric first and see what the true High King might reward him for restoring such a crucial piece of Nord history.


	3. Saarthal and Beyond

The freezing breeze brought a whiff of rotting wood upon it and for a moment, Zee was back in Riften. It always smelled of rotting wood and leaves, overlayed with the ripe scent of the waterways. The air was underscored with of the smell of wood fire and Balimund's exceptional forge when she walked through the market. She would still be in bed now, a bed that wasn't hers, but was warm and comfortable all the same. It wouldn't be like the narrow, sparse bed she'd woken up in at the college, buried beneath blankets that still weren't enough. The chill crept in and invaded her body, making it impossible to banish all the aches from her dragon fight. She'd had to use another healing spell that morning after waking so stiff putting on her armor had been a challenge.

Zee's last stop before she set out on the road to Saarthal was to stop in the shop in Winterhold. She lived enough on the road to know that any expedition would need supplies, even one undertaken as part of a college project. Plus, now she was tasked with finding this fabled helm of Winterhold, which she wanted to locate as swiftly as possible. It had been in her mind to refuse Korir, but in the end she decided to go on and explore more of the region anyway. Searching for the helm would give her a chance to see more of the hold.

Korir didn't hide his Stormcloak leanings, and after their rocky start, she was not endeared to him or Winterhold. She realized what he'd meant about her being from Hammerfell in the moments after he said it -- they were no longer part of the Empire and he'd hope to exploit similar feelings within her. But she was from Wayrest, and no matter the politicking and various arguments the land of her mother's forebears had with the Empire, her family lived in Bretony and they were decidedly still Imperial subjects there.

She started to bite her lip, but thought better of it as she looked around the shop. Soon she'd be out in the elements, so harsh and unforgiving of her bad habit, punishing her with chapped and broken lips. The taste of blood was too often on her tongue, and she didn't need to add to her own suffering. Zee focused on shopping instead. She'd purchased another dragon claw from the shopkeep already, though the woman hadn't known what she had. Lingering over the rest of the items, she wished she hadn't left some of the extras from her pack back in her room. They could have been sold to improve Birna's inventory.

Zee had seen the shopkeeper and her brother arguing in the street the night before as she'd gone to the inn. They seemed as depressed as the rest of Winterhold, aside from the college. It was its own little, isolated town up there, much to the detriment of the residents of the actual town. Zee stepped up to Birna and spoke.

"You know, I find all manner of things in dungeons and the like. If I brought you some of the more strange or exotic items, would you buy them?"

Birna shrugged, looking as downcast as she had when Zee came in. "Sure, I might, if its worth my while."

"Well, I could help with that too. I travel a lot -- to Dawnstar and Whiterun and all over Skyrim. Maybe my word might send a few adventurers your way to stock up."

"Why would they stop here?" she asked, scowling, but Zee could see her interest.

"They're going to explore the coast, the wrecks and such anyway. If people know your shop is pretty much the only one around, and it's got interesting items, they'd be inclined to stop in. If they're going to be around here and stop anywhere around here besides the inn, might as well be in your shop."

It was a long shot, but Zee found that she actually did want to help the struggling Winterhold. They, these people, deserved more than this bleak, hard life. She almost cursed the urge within herself, knowing that this was how most of her problems started, but it had also given her great rewards too. Jarl Balgruuf was as close to a friend as she had at the moment. Perhaps if she helped enough, the people would remember that when her Legion had to win the war in these parts.

"All right, we can try it. I'll give you a discount and first look if I get anything good in trade while your away," Birna offered.

Zee smiled her acceptance, and bought a few more items just to show her gratefulness.

#

The Dragonborn had conveniently neglected to tell him that she and her fellow mages were on their way to Saarthal. Korir spat on the stone floor for the sixth time since hearing that little piece of news, indignant anger welling up in him, threatening to boil over at any moment. She wasn't even close by, for him to summon and direct his rage at, but Korir wished she was. Couldn't trust mages, he knew that, but he had expected the Dragonborn to have a little more honor than that. His mistake to put his faith a mage.

Korir wasn't sure what to do with his anger, except wait for her to return. Some of the mages from the college had already passed through the town on the way back, talking of a discovery. He doubted they found anything that wasn't supposed to remain hidden. Their ancestors had left Saarthal for good reason, and there were some things that should remain buried. Perhaps that was part of the problem. The Dragonborn wasn't a Nord, and she didn't know how their traditions and customs worked. Still, he couldn't let her ignorance be an excuse for the things that mages got up to.

His bad mood was picked up by Thaena, who was avoiding him as much as possible. He saw it in the way she and Assur scurried away from his heavy gaze, the way she kept herself out of sight as much as possible. The weight on his mind was enough to force his family to step back, even if they didn't realize they were giving him a wide berth. Korir took a deep breath and tried to blow out some of his frustration and the damn humiliation he felt. The Dragonborn, he shouldn't have trusted her with such a mission, knowing what she was. She would be the ruin of Winterhold.

It took days for his anger to mellow after some pointed words from Thaena. Korir realized he was harsh, but mages weren't to be trusted, though he'd just have to come to an understanding with one, for the good of his Hold. He was considering what to say if she did ever come back when she walked right back into the longhouse. Zee came in just as casually as if she were strolling through Winterhold with no real plans. Korir bit back the black tide that started to rise as she walked forward, though his gaze didn't soften, not at first. When she bowed, she proffered the helm of Winterhold -- just when he'd begun to suspect that she might not be able to retrieve it after all.

"The helm, my jarl," she said, still kneeling. He bade her stand, and she straightened with a sigh, as if she were in pain and standing offered relief. One side of her hair was singed, making it about an inch or two shorter than the other side. The observation was the last thing he noticed as he looked down on the helm of Winterhold in her hands.

"You found it," Korir breathed, and for a second was too caught up in the moment to remember the days he spent stewing while she was gone. Korir took the helm from Zee and turned it over, finally touching the relic he'd so desired to see for years.

It was a heavy helm, made in the ancient style. He doubted there was a blacksmith these days that could recreate such a piece, even old Eorland Grey-Mane down on the Skyforge. It was just as it had been described in the texts, right down to the sigil stamped into the metal. There was no doubt that this was authentic, and now Korir could write to Ulfric about it. He could tell the High King and be rewarded, and there would be more than just tales of Winterhold's lost glory at the next moot.

"You've done us a great service, Dragonborn," he said, not looking at her. His own distrust and anger shouldn't mar the moment, and he couldn't ignore that she'd done what his mercenaries hadn't been able to accomplish.

"Thank you, Jarl Korir." She was a prim as ever, but something in her voice made Korir look up.

Then she fainted.

#

Korir wasn't so careless as to toss the helm of Winterhold, but it caught some air as it left his hands. It landed on the throne, and he caught the Dragonborn just before she crumpled down to the ground. It was almost an elegant swoon, like the maidens in the stories of the Emperor's court in Cyrodiil. Legend had it that Tiber Septim had such presence that he caused Queen Barenziah to faint when they first met. But Korir didn't think that he'd been able to conjure the same reaction from an obviously bedraggled Dragonborn.

"Thaena! Guards!" Korir roared. He felt himself yielding to gravity as he pulled Zee closer to him, struggling under the dead weight of the woman and her armor. The pack she wore was incredibly heavy, and he had no doubt that this had contributed to whatever caused her to faint in the first place. Thaena was at his side first, and it was she that started giving the instructions to the guards. He worked to sit without jostling her overmuch, and wound up with her head on his lap.

Korir looked down the Dragonborn, who looked oddly serene as she lay there. She was prettier than he remembered, or had noticed before. The color was drained from her face, her chapped lips parted. Her breathing was shallow but steady, and he hoped she would awaken in short order. She didn't look ill exactly, just careworn and tired. Korir wondered what she'd endured to bring him the helm that left her in such a state. Even when she'd fought the dragon there had been no sign of this kind of fatigue.

There were no closer beds than his own, and Thaena ordered her moved there until she awoke. Korir helped to carefully carry the Dragonborn, and then belatedly remembered the helm. It was still sitting on his throne, with no new dents or cracks to show for all his haste in throwing it aside when the Dragonborn fainted.

"Should we leave her to rest?" Korir asked, but Thaena shook her head.

"What happened, Korir?" she asked. She had her hands on her hips, looking down at Zee.

"She brought me the helm," he said, holding it out to show her. "Then down she went."

"Well," Thaena said, but didn't continue. She seemed to be at a loss for words. Korir was going to suggest they leave her to sleep it off when Thaena sat down in the chair next to Zee. "I'll stay," she said.

"And what shall I do?" he asked. He felt like he should stay with her. She was in his bed, and he might have had a hand in causing her affliction. Korir looked down at the Dragonborn once again, pleased to see that some of her color was returning. A healthy flush hadn't completely come back to warm her dark complexion, but she was no longer ashen.

"Get a healing potion from the guards. We can try to sit her up and give it to her," Thaena said.

"That won't be necessary," Zee said from the bed, her voice only a little slurred as she said it. Thaena put an arm across her chest to keep her from struggling to sit up, and after one attempt, Zee lay back down.

Korir took a step back, then another, almost tripping over his own feet to get away from her as she was enveloped in golden light. Her magic hummed softly in the room as she healed herself, golden strands of light circling her body. He blocked the door, but didn't go any further, his breath frozen in his chest. Restoration magic. Even the Stormcloaks had healers among them, as much as true Nords shunned magic. While he didn't like it, at least healing he could understand. No matter how much he could logically think of the need to heal with as much adventuring as she must do, his voice was harsh when he found it.

"You'll still have a potion, Dragonborn." It came out as an order, and Thaena nodded at him in approval. "Now tell me, what has you passing out in my court?"

#

Zee summoned her healing magic again, letting the warming sensation ease away the aches and pains that dotted her body. Of all the magic, her restoration wasn't the strongest, but she'd spent good time trying to improve it. At least that much had come of her time at the college so far. She'd found an interest and discipline in magical study that Zee hadn't previously known she'd harbored.

But Thaena backed away as the light of her spell threaded over her, and Korir's eyes narrowed at the renewed use of her magic. He leaned back out of the door, his eyes ever fixed on her, and bellowed for a healing potion. Of all the Nords she could have been with, it had to be two of the most vocal about their dislike of magic. Their attitude irked her but she let it go without comment as it was poor manners to complain about it as she lay in their bed. They could hate her magic, but she had to get back on her feet somehow. One little potion wouldn't heal her as effectively as her magic could.

"I am just overtired," Zee explained, sitting up as she did. "There was a bear on the way into town that I had to slay." That was only the tail-end of her story, but there was no point in telling it all to them.

Korir handed the small bottle of healing potion to her, making it across the room in a quick series of long-legged strides to do so. Her hand brushed his as she took it, his fingers rough and cool to her touch, and she managed to smile up at him as she clasped the bottle. Zee drank, feeling the unnerving burn as the potion shot through her. Potions were never as gentle as magic, though they were marginally faster. It didn't matter much to her, but she saw the satisfied look that Korir and Thaena shared when she downed it without protest.

"Did you encounter trouble finding the helm?" Korir suggested, still digging for the root of her sudden swoon.

Zee shook her head in reply. "No more than usual things found when delving into ruins."

"You must be exhausted then," Thaena piped up. "Probably too long since you've had a good, filling meal. I'll bring you a bowl of stew."

She hustled from the room with a haste that clearly illustrated that she was still uneasy with Zee and her magic. Zee sighed softly at the thought of being kept even longer, but didn't bother to deny that she was hungry. The food in her pack was adequate, but she'd gone mostly without stopping on her trip back to Winterhold.

"You mages went to Saarthal," Korir began, and Zee couldn't suppress the shiver that ran through her at the mention of the place.

"Yes, but I don't wish to speak of it," she said, turning her face away from him. That place had been full of tricks and traps and too many unexplained things. She didn't like it, and had spoken to no one about the vision or whatever it had been that made her think she'd seen a Psijic Monk.

Something in her words must have swayed him, because Korir sought no more answers. Instead, they lapsed into silence until Thaena brought the stew to her, along with a tankard of mead and some bread. Then the jarl and his wife sat with her while she ate. They expressed their gratitude at the return of the helm, Korir telling her more of the history behind it and of Winterhold. Thaena was familiar with the tales, because she interjected details or forgotten parts as Korir let his tales unfold. She thanked them, because their kindness was unexpected and she knew of their deep distrust of magic. They were extending to her a latitude that not many got, and she would maintain the goodwill as best she could. It could prove beneficial for the college, perhaps.

When she went back out into the cold to head up to the college, ready to deliver her somewhat delayed message of their Saarthal find, Zee almost felt happy. Her time in the cold north hadn't been pleasant so far, less so since she'd been to Saarthal. That place and whatever had been left there was a trap, and no good would come of it. She wouldn't be so impertinent as to say so when she reported to the Arch-Mage, but perhaps she could stress caution. Intuition told her that it probably wouldn't help, but she had to try.


	4. Blind Protection

Both Korir and Thaena watched the Dragonborn leave with some trepidation, though he thought they masked it well enough until she was out of the door. Even with a potion and food in her, Korir wasn't convinced that Zee was at her best. Thaena was worrying her lip when Korir looked over at her again, his glance confirming wordlessly that she shared his doubts.

"She didn't want to speak about Saarthal," he said. "Whatever the mages were doing there, it made her upset."

Thaena nodded, looking pensive. "I wonder what those mages are up to there. Want to send some soldiers, just to see if they can get a look in?"

Korir thought on it, then shook his head. "There's no need to risk good men on a trip out to there. There's no telling what went on there," he said, tapping a finger to his chin as he thought. A feeling of dread had settled over him, unspooling in a sickly cold after Zee fainted. He'd fought at her side before, against a dragon no less, and knew that possessed the legendary strength, and formidable skill.

This situation troubled him, and as he set the helm of Winterhold down again, he tried to straighten it out in his mind. The mages were known for their duplicitousness, half of his missing hold could attest to that. There were tales of mages running away from whatever rules the college imposed, though he didn't think they were many. They animated the dead, desecrating the bodies and memories of those lost with their foulness, making mindless fighters out of corpses until there was nothing left of them. They did countless other weird and unsavory magic tricks, just to see what the outcome.

Yet, he didn't believe Lady Zee capable of such depravity. She'd only healed herself here, when she could have used a display of force to make them back off. Korir wondered at that, at the type of person that would travel all across Skyrim just to study at a place that she didn't seem to like very well. Nothing in her suggested that she liked being a mage, but rather that she'd been one without much training. Possibilities flitted through his mind until one emerged from among the throng. When he spoke Korir kept his voice low.

"Do you think, Thaena, that the Dragonborn came to the college of a desire to learn magic?" he asked, but didn't wait for his shocked wife to answer. "Or was it because someone suggested that she should come, maybe even lured her here?"

"Who knows what wickedness the mages get up to," Thaena whispered. Her eyes had gone wide with the suggestion, revealing all of the pretty hazel color that he so loved, though now they were clouded with suspicion.

"Do you think she was well enough to leave?" he asked, suddenly worried for Zee.

Thaena, whatever her suspicions, waved this concern off. "She knows herself best, Korir. It was her own magic that fixed her, more than a potion and a meal."

'Perhaps you're right," he said, giving her the point. "But I am troubled by the actions of the mages, and what they might get up to at that college. The Dragonborn may not be safe."

"You're the jarl, Korir. If anyone can request her aid, it's you," Thaena said, giving him a pointed look.

"I can't make her leave the college and all it's damnable mages behind. It's her choice to remain there!"

Thaena gave him an even harder look, exasperation written in the lines of her face. "But you can request that she help you with a great many things, like sending messages to the Silver-Bloods, or to Layla in Riften."

"Not Layla, she's useless," Korir muttered automatically. Understanding dawned as he stroked his beard, and he smiled up at Thaena. "Yes, I see. I think I'll send a note to the Dragonborn in two days, asking her to take a trip to Markarth for me."

Thanea looked very pleased with herself as she and Korir hatched their plans, and he had to admit that she had good ideas. He had a great deal of business to do with the other holds, starting with informing all of them of the return of the Helm of Winterhold. He would try to keep the Dragonborn safe whether she knew it or not. Even with all the hold soldiers, they didn't have the power to go up to the college, but they could call her away. Away from those walls might be far safer than trapped behind them.

#

The air around the city of Markarth tasted like the acrid smoke from the smelters even before she set foot into the gates. Every time she came, she found more chaos and corruption in the stone city. Zee found it less palatable with each visit. From one point of view, it was fascinating, but she was no historian or Dwemer scholar. That aspect lost its appeal quickly in the wretched mire of tangled webs that was Markarth. 

She'd worked her way to the western city, stopping in Solitude on the journey. She made as good on her deal with Birna as she could -- telling people about the shop with the odd goods in Winterhold. Word of mouth was powerful advertising, or so they said. She doubted this trip would yield anything interesting to sell to Birna when she got back, but there was always the chance of a run-in with the Forsworn. They inhabited many of the redoubts in the area, no doubt holing up there until they could make a coordinated strike, along with their various strange goods and belongings. It was an irritatingly tense situation in Markarth, and now it would be made worse by her renewed presence. It always got worse before it got better.

Korir had asked her to deliver some missives that he trusted only her to carry. Apparently her retrieval of the helm of Winterhold made her a confidante of the jarl. It troubled her that she liked Korir and Thaena so much, since she knew where the loyalties lay. Zee wasn't a fan of Ulfric, especially not after her first trip to Windhelm. Any lingering feelings she'd harbored for him after Helgen were long gone. Segregation did no one any good. High Rock was lousy with nobles, and economics further divided its people, but such blatant racism horrified her. Many of the Nords in Windhelm reveled in causing pain to the Dunmer and the Argonians of the city. It was especially abhorrent to her, with her mixed parentage. Ulfric left a sour taste in her mouth that turned to ash whenever she heard Korir or Thaena praise him.

She stopped in to see the jarl first, as was her custom. Zee especially hated Understone Keep, not because of the keep itself, but because of the Thalmor that patrolled the halls, relentlessly prowling like a caged animal. She didn't like them, but if General Tullius had to play nice with them, then so would she.

Jarl Igmund sat on his throne, discussing business while she waited to approach. He seemed a good leader, though she didn't know him well, her time in Markarth was always as short as she could possibly keep it. Eltrys, the Breton that had asked her to look into the Forsworn around the city, had last directed her to question Thonar Silver-Blood. She had to talk to his brother anyway, perhaps she would stop in and finish her inquiries, talk to both him and Nepos the Nose before she left the city.

That had been her intention, before Jarl Igmund sat forward and beckoned to her, grimness darkening his expression. "Dragonborn," he began, mustering up a tired smile, "I am glad you're back. It's always a comfort to know you are around." 

"My jarl, it's my honor as always, to be in your presence. Do you require my assistance?"

Jarl Igmund laughed, the action softening the lines of his face, making him look his true age for once. With his grey hair, Igmund looked older than his years, save for his eyes. "I think all of Skyrim is sorely in need of a Dragonborn at the moment. Balgruuf will want to see you soon. I think that Ulfric will make a move for Whiterun next, though Tullius hasn't confirmed it." He ran a hand through his hair, and looked up at her, eyes beseeching. "For now, there are a few things that I might ask of you, if you aren't too busy with your Legion duties."

Igmund would want her to kill bandits and Forsworn, or something of the like. That was normal, and she could do with a hearty dose of normal, away from the frozen tundra of Winterhold and Saarthal. So why did she want to get back there as quickly as she could? Zee put that thought away as she listened to the jarl describe the latest woes to plague his hold, determined to let some space get between her and Winterhold.

#

Markarth wasn't a nearby Hold, and when Korir thought on it, he wished that it could have been a little closer. He knew it would take weeks for Zee to return from Markarth, weeks in which Korir and to a lesser extent, Thaena, would worry for her. He tried to hold it at bay but after about eight days, he began to look for signs that she was coming back. He asked the guards if they'd heard anything from Markarth, and there was nothing, no word. There was no sign of her until the stranger showed up.

"Pa, there's a new man in the tavern," Assur said, running in from the snow. "He says he's looking for the Dragonborn."

"What does he look like?" Korir asked, sitting up straighter on his throne.

Assur shrugged. "He has a hood. But I think he might have a scar on his face. Black armor."

Korir didn't like the sound of the man, not at all. If he were truly worried for the Dragonborn, he would come to the Jarl first, to officially ask for help. Another thought coalesced in his mind, and he turned back to Assur, but the boy was gone. Black armor? That could be many things, but he hoped it wasn't some stranger in daedric armor searching for Zee. He'd have to warn her if it was. Strangers outfitted well nearly always meant trouble.

He made his way over to the Frozen Hearth, trying to make it seem as though he had just come for an early dinner and not to see this man that was asking after the Dragonborn. When he got there, a stranger was seated in the shadows in a corner, almost completely hidden. Next to him was Ranmir, already drunk and talking far too freely.

"Yeah so I think she was up at the college, you should talk to them there. Maybe she's off doing something for them. If so, let her stay gone. Too much trouble from the college around here if you ask me."

"So you think the Dragonborn may have been up at the college?" the man asked.

"What does it matter to you?" Korir asked, his overloud voice silencing the tavern. "Why are you searching for her?"

The man cocked his head so that he could see Korir better, but the jarl could make no more of him out than he could before. The hood left his face in shadow, save his mouth and chin. The stranger had a beard, a short reddish brown one, and probably hair to match.

"She's my guild master. I've been out looking for her," the man admitted.

"Aye. And what guild what that be?" Korir asked.

At the question, the man smiled a wide, smirking grin. His voice grew lighter, as if he were telling a joke to a waiting crowd. "We're just a group of talented individuals interested in accumulating wealth," he said.

"I don't know what you mean and I don't care. You look like a thief to me, and you'll be out of my hold by sunrise tomorrow. If she didn't tell you where to find her, then she doesn't want to be found. Leave the Dragonborn be."

The man laughed, a soft, mocking laugh. "I see the lass has made some friends here. No worries, my jarl, I'll be out of your hold in no time."

Korir watched the man leave the tavern's main room for one of the beds, his mind abuzz. Was Zee a thief? Could he have been part of the thieves guild? She'd been wearing proper armor when he met her, and she fought with a greatsword. What thief did that? 

He mulled it over as Haran sat a bowl of stew down in front of him. Korir ate slowly, thinking, turning things over in his mind. Zee was a mage, and possibly a thief. There was more to her than he realized, and things he needed to ask her when she came back from Markarth. The thieves guild -- they'd recently starting popping up again after years of decline. Could it be because of her influence or was the man just a liar? Perhaps he was collecting a debt and using the story as cover. That seemed more likely to Korir.

He was going to confront the man again to demand the truth, but when he finished his meal and went to the room where the man had retired, it was empty. No one had seen him leave.


	5. Returned

Prison. How had she wound up the cursed mine that the Silver-Bloods owned? Cidhna fucking mine. Of all the things she'd done in her life -- and more than a few of them had been criminal, it wasn't investigating the blood cursed Forsworn that she'd thought would cause her to wind up in prison. At first, Zee had been livid to find herself confined to a life of hard labor, but now, standing in the shadow of all she'd destroyed, she just felt tired. Yes, she was free and Thonar Silver-Blood was talking to her, but Divines, at what cost had it come? Her very soul felt stained, and that was saying something.

It took killing all of the inmates that were trying to escape with the King in Rags to gain her good name and freedom. Small comfort that Thonar Silver-Blood was waiting for her with news of a pardon from the jarl when she finally saw sunlight again. It was his mine that she'd been tossed in, and left to rot without a trial or real reason for her imprisonment. Zee had half a mind to strangle him, but since she'd just broken out of prison, there was really no need to go back again.

On her way out of the forsaken stone city, a runner for the Jarl found her and begged her presence. She could barely be gracious as she accepted, but she supposed she did owe the jarl something for his clemency. Zee trudged back through the city towards the stone keep. Her feet found the way before she really put thought to it, showing a disturbing familiarity with Markarth. When she'd first come to the city, it had fascinated her, and later it had worn on her. Now, she was all but done with this place, save for this last summons from Jarl Igmund.

"My jarl?" Zee asked as she approached the throne, bowing. The creaking and pops issuing from her stiff back were largely ignored by the people assembled, for which she was grateful. Igmund sat up straighter on his throne.

"Dragonborn, on behalf of Markarth, I apologize."

"So I have heard." She drew in a deep breath before continuing, "And I accept, my lord. Is there anything else before I would go? I have business outside of Markarth."

"I wanted you to know that I was not aware of what transpired in any way. The man whom you were helping, his family will be vindicated." He paused and looked up at her, a pleading in his eyes that Zee wasn't expecting and didn't know how to explain. "You must understand, there are too many forces at work in the region, and fending them all off at once stretches my resources thin."

"We do what we must, my jarl."

"Indeed. But enough of my excuses. There were letters sent here by General Tullius and Jarl Ulfric, demanding to know your whereabouts. Balgruuf and Korir also made their concerns known. It seems you have many friends on opposing sides, Dragonborn."

"As I said before, we do what we must," Zee repeated, giving Igmund a level look. He gazed back at her, his tired eyes unreadable. He was trying to tell her something, but in her fatigue she was missing it, not getting the message.

"Dragonborn, you are always welcome here as an honored citizen and a Thane. No blemish of this unfortunate incident will touch you," he reaffirmed and Zee bowed her head. Igmund was through with their conversation, though she didn't get all of it, she'd heard enough.

Igmund was worried for her, though he didn't come right out and say it. He needed her assistance, but there was more to it, to what he was saying. That he fretted over his hold was apparent enough, and his grip on his throne was so tenuous it may well slip off. Perhaps that's why he apologized so much to her, maybe that and the letter from Tullius. Igmund needed Imperial support if he was going to be able to keep Markarth safe.

Zee sighed heavily. Her head hurt and she wanted nothing more to get the hell away from Markarth as quickly as possible. Saddling her horse, she did just that, heading back the way she'd come so many weeks ago, towards Winterhold.

#

Korir wasn't sure what to expect when Zee and her horse came galloping back into Winterhold, weeks later than he'd anticipated. It was nearly the end of his day, time for dinner at the Frozen Hearth again, but he lingered upon hearing it from one of his guards that she'd been sighted near Winterhold.

His worry and agitation for her came to the forefront, making him both eager to talk and antsy for it to be done. He wanted to see her, to know what had taken so long, to see if his concern or anger would win out. She came into his longhouse without much delay, and was silent and tired when she came in. It was his compassion that seized him upon seeing her, and though he wasn't a man given to whims, he softened as she drew near.

"Dragonborn," he said, acknowledging her with a tilt of his head. "Is the deed done?"

"Yes."

"Are you well?" Korir asked, though he had sense enough to see that she wasn't. Had she been, a simple one word answer wouldn't have been sufficient.

"I was thrown in Silver-Blood mine, Jarl Korir. I am tired, I am hungry, and dirty. I wish nothing more than to tell you I succeeded with your task and to retire to my quarters at the college," Zee said.

Korir frowned at her, though he could hardly begrudge her the rest. "Prison? You'll have to tell me the story. I assume it was a mistake, but I'd like to know why."

"Tomorrow, my jarl, perhaps the day after. I am very weary," she admitted, and Korir felt a jolt of alarm, remembering her earlier swoon. It wouldn't do to have her passing out again. But today Zee looked well and steady on her feet, though tired and dirty as she said. He suspected, though Korir had no way of confirming it, that she was simply angry at everyone who had a hand in her imprisonment and wanted to be far away before her temper took over.

"Of course," he answered, but when she made to bow he held up a hand to stop her. "There is one more thing before you go, a man was asking after you while you were gone. He was a thief, of this I am sure, but when I went to question him again, he was gone."

Her eyes had sharpened, narrowing as she looked at him. "Tell me what he looked like, my jarl."

"He was a Nord man, strong of body and wearing dark leathers. He had a scar on a cheek. He wore a hood, so it wasn't easy to see his face, but I think he had reddish brown hair."

She swore so quietly that had he not been watching her lips, he wouldn't have known. The feeling he had when he saw the man, that there was nothing good about him was proving to be true. Zee regained her composure and nodded at him, thanking him for the information, but where he had expected fear he saw anger. Zee was angry, not in a rage or running blind with hot, reckless temper but the set of her shoulders made clear that she wasn't happy. Later, when he thought back on it, Korir realized she'd been more annoyed that agitated.

"You wrote to Igmund for me?" Zee asked, and it took Korir a moment to realize she'd changed the subject. Whatever more she knew about the man, she wasn't going to share it. Perhaps that was for the best.

"I did. You were on my errand, in my charge still. When I didn't get a prompt reply, I wrote to Jarl Ulfric. I assume he also made his own inquiries."

The way she looked at him was so startled that it nearly caused Korir to break into laughter. "You needn't have done that, but I appreciate it. Igmund had no idea," she trailed off and shook her head. "It doesn't matter now. Thank you for the concern."

She was still upset, but it was tempered with the weariness she'd displayed upon entering. Korir dismissed her, and she gave him a small smile before turning towards the door. Her smile, rare as a sunny, warm day in Winterhold, warmed him just as thoroughly.

Thaena came into the longhouse as Zee was leaving, and he heard them both stop to greet the other. Zee's fatigue apparent, because Thaena gave her a short greeting and let Zee exit into the frigid night. His wife looked at him from the door, meeting his eyes over the length of the room.

"Let's have dinner," Korir said, and she nodded. There was much to discuss, and yet he felt like he knew very little.


	6. Chapter 6

"Enthir, I need two favors," Zee said. She was standing in her quarters at the college, fresh from a lesson. It had been almost a week since she'd been back in Winterhold, but she had yet to go back into town.

"Guildmaster?" he asked, sitting down at the end of her bed.

"I need you to first take these things I managed to acquire on my last trip down to Birna. Later this month I've got to leave on some more business, and I'll have some other items for you. But I also need to get a note to the guild, can you do that?"

"Sure thing."

"Bryn was looking for me, and he didn't use any of the normal precautions. I'm worried, but I can't get back to Riften right now so I want to send them word."

"He didn't come up to the college," Enthir said, and she could hear the slight rebuke in his voice. But Brynjolf didn't know much about Enthir, just that he was a fence. He was mostly Karliah's contact, so Bryn wouldn't have known it was safe to come to the college and speak to anyone.

"That's all right. I just need a message to get to him, encoded." She slid on a cloak over her armor, thinking of how cold the past night had been. "I've got to go down to see the jarl. Can you make sure the message goes as quickly as possible?"

Enthir nodded, and that was another thing off her mind. What truly occupied it was a message from Korir, one asking her for a private audience this evening. She suspected he needed something from her, and hoped fervently it wasn't yet another trip to Markarth. The last time was so fresh in her mind she could nearly smell the prison mine if she breathed in deeply enough. Perhaps it was the middens, but it was too much for her to go back again so soon.

She did say she'd tell Korir the story of how she'd wound up in prison in Markarth, but she'd been putting it off ever since returning the college. Despite it all, she had her studies and class to attend, and Ancano to avoid. The Thalmor was seeking her out more and more lately, and it was just his poor luck that she was so skilled in avoiding people.

The snow was blowing itself up across the Sea of Ghosts as Zee departed for the jarl's longhouse. She walked swiftly down the walkways to the main town, slipping past only one guard as she did. When she burst into the warmth of her destination, her face stung from the cold. If this wasn't a short visit, she might have to take a room at the inn; it was that cold.

Jarl Korir was quickly becoming one of her favorite people in Skyrim, despite him sending her to Markarth. She didn't understand much of what drove him besides an intense admiration for Ulfric Stormcloak and a dislike for mages, but she hadn't the opportunity to know him very well yet. Her inquiries to Enthir yielded nothing -- Enthir had little understanding of Winterhold outside the college and his criminal contacts. Knowing the jarls business was directly counter to his own, so he hadn't been able to provide her with any answers that pertained to Korir's personality.

When she got inside, she was ushered upstairs to where the jarl was waiting. Korir greeted her with a smile that set his whole face alight. "Can I pour you a mug of ale, Lady Zee?" he asked.

Lady Zee again, not Dragonborn. She wasn't sure which she preferred. Still, she was out of the cold and sitting with him, taking a mug from him in no time at all. The fire warmed her, drying the snow that had stuck to her armor and melted, easing the ache of cold from her fingers, face and toes. She'd taken off her gauntlets so she could drink easier, and they rested on the table next to her.

"I got your note, my jarl," Zee said, looking over her cup at Korir. He was regarding her thoughtfully, but didn't respond to her comment. At least, she thought he wasn't going to respond, but then the jarl leaned forward and took her hand, cupping it in both of his. The feeling of his skin on hers sent a jolt through her.

Korir was looking at her very carefully, her hand wrapped in both of his. They were hard hands, worn with callouses that came from handling a weapon, but with a gentleness to them. Once he'd taken her hand, Korir seemed at a loss of where to start.

"Lady Zee. Well, I um, asked you here for a reason. Yes, Thaena and I were talking about you," he began, but then drew back from her to take a drink from his own mug. It was bigger than hers, and Zee almost laughed. It must have been one of the few perks to being the jarl of Winterhold.

Zee was getting a strange feeling about this whole encounter. Everything felt surreal, as if she were seeing it both through her eyes and from outside of her own body. She saw herself sitting at the rough hewn table with the deep gouges in the wood, could feel them under her hand as sure as she could feel Korir's eyes on her following her every move. She was drinking with the jarl, which should have been a pleasant, congenial experience. She'd done it more than once with Jarl Balgruuf, who sang rude songs, dared her to speak in _'dragon'_ and gave her rough pats on the back when he'd downed too many, but Korir was on edge. When he didn't speak after draining his mug, she took up the bottle and poured him another measure. Whatever he needed to say took liquid courage, and she might as well help him get it out.

"Where is Thaena?" she asked, looking around the longhouse.

"She and Birna made up, so she's with her for the night," Korir admitted. "They are so often on the outs, it's hard to keep up."

"Oh, I see," Zee said, and she did. She felt some of the things she'd noticed slip into place, and understanding blossomed. Korir and Thaena they were married, but it was apparently open. Open marriages were a popular thing in High Rock, where connections and liaisons gained one courtly power. It was easier to be up front, but she also knew that it took a great deal of work. Seeing the jarl's sangfroid about Thaena's whereabouts told her that this part of their relationship, Thaena and Birna, had been worked out long ago.

"Is that why you invited me here?" she asked softly. Her own attraction to Korir had been set aside, she didn't need to dally with any more entangled men -- it always ended worse for her than anyone else. And Korir, of all the jarls, was so ill-suited to her, with his near-worship of Ulfric and hatred of mages. Divines only knew what he would think if he knew she was the Guildmaster of the Thieves Guild, and her constant flight from the problems that seemed to always spring up in her wake. Despite all of that, he sat there just near her, trembling with nerves as he took another gulp of his drink. He stole a glance at her and then looked back into the depths of his own mug, and Zee knew then, she just knew. It made a hot flush spread over her so much that she shifted in her seat, anticipation setting her teeth on edge.

"You told me you'd tell me of your time in Markarth," he said, avoiding her question. His voice was gruff, and he wouldn't meet her gaze as he said it.

Zee took a breath and smiled at him. "I stopped a woman from being murdered in the market the first time I went there. I guess that's where it starts." But before she launched into her story fully, she leaned in and kissed Korir's cheek. It was a chaste kiss, quick and swift, but intimate enough that her meaning couldn't be misconstrued. His eyes widened at the contact, but when she settled back into her place, he was smiling at her again.

"Her name was Margaret," Zee continued, and Korir reached over and put a hand on her knee as she spoke.


End file.
